


Finding A Phoenix

by NightHunterDeath



Series: Phoenix [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece
Genre: Harry is Marco, Immortal Harry Potter, Immortal Marco, M/M, Marco is Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightHunterDeath/pseuds/NightHunterDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Different POVs for ‘A Phoenix Never Dies’ and scenes that might or might not be in the original story. I might take requests if I’m in the mood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Whitebeard’s POV for A Phoenix Never Dies  
> He didn’t mean to stumble across him, didn’t mean to look for him. But he found him, wandering alone without a purpose other than finding his own end. Maybe it was destined by Fate, but he never liked talking about that particular women, so maybe it was by chance. Then again…maybe it wasn’t.
> 
> Not my best work...but I just wanted to get it done and over with.
> 
> Words: 1220  
> Pages: 3

There is a myth, older than his own father, about a phoenix that soars the blue skies with freedom that no other has. It describes that the phoenix has a mark of yellow around its eyes, his body size undetermined but always the same – blue and gold, and sometimes if they mesh just right a brilliant green that seems unearthly. People are told that the bird of fire’s singing is probably the most beautiful sound they have ever heard, making them weep at just a note coming from its beak.

The story that surrounds the phoenix is just like any other, and yet totally different. There is no solid fact, simply rumors by the forgotten age of man that have managed to slip through without much difficulty. But it all starts the same way with the phoenix being betrayed, forever on the hunt to end its own life.

It is a sad story, one that humanity might never know the real story behind, or even if it’s true. It is a tragic story, but at the end of the day, it’s simply that. A story.

Or so he thought.

-

He had separated from the crew he had started out with, with him as the cabin boy and working his way up. As soon as he was sure enough that he could take care of himself, he sent himself off and went to gather a crew, a family he could call his own. He was orphaned at a young age, his father who was a brunette with hazel eyes was killed by bandits and the same bandits ravished his mother, a women with fiery red hair and bright green eyes that were like Lily-pads, making her take her own life if only to keep what little sanity she had left. The village doctor, a women with grey hair and bright sky blue eyes, had found him tucked under some rags, a little bit a ways from his parent’s bodies. The doctor took him in and raised him as her own. And when he turned fourteen he went out to find a crew to become a part of, so he could someday start his own. Where he was now.

He had made it to an out-of-the-way island, where no one really went but still had enough people to have other bring supplies in from different islands. He did not mean to hit it off with the strange blonde man in the corner of the tavern by the end of the bar. He had not meant to start a conversation with the man that seemed to be in his mid-twenties but acted much older. He had not meant to grow attached to this man; not at all. He sometimes wondered if it was Fate playing games – before he remembered never to think about that particular goddess anywhere near the stranger.

He pursued the younger man of about five years for three months, softening him up and wearing him down, wanting more than anything for the man to just give in and become a part of his crew. The look in the blonde’s man eyes showed him he wanted to accept, wanted to come along with him, wanted to be a part of his crew – but had something that was holding him back. The mistrust in his eyes were clear as day, his guard always up even when he was alone. He didn’t seem to carry anything around with him besides a small pouch at his waist, and he never went to a room or a boat. He guess that should have been his first clue.

It was three months after constant badgering, constant silent reassurances that he wasn’t going to up and leave him behind, being a support even when the stranger did not need it, that the blonde finally accepted.

And it was the first time he had seen his eyes.

He doesn’t think it was on purpose, probably didn’t even realize that he had his bangs covered for the three months he was around him, if not longer. He had always been interested in other people’s eyes, his own being a weird silvery-blue. His mother had been a green like grass, his father hazel, and the doctor a sparkling spring water blue. And when the stranger lifted his head to meet his own eyes, he felt his breath catch at the sheer intensity of color leaking from his new crewmate’s orbs.

They were blue, akin to his own and the doctor’s but at the same time so very different. His screamed of the sky and the sea, meshing together at the horizontal line to come together in a perfect blending of colors. It was like looking into the eyes of freedom itself, seeing all that it had to offer and what was just beyond the horizon. And just for a moment, one he’s not even sure existed, did those blue eyes turn a solid green, so much like an acid or an emerald that he wasn’t sure if he should continue to look into them, before they turned back to the color of freedom.

Edward Newgate, as that was his name, had asked the person who he had been pursing for the past three months what his own name was, finding out that he did not have one, and if he did, he no longer remembered nor wanted to.

Newgate looked over the newcomer closely, taking in all his features. He wasn’t ordinary, not by a long shot with his messy blonde hair and his sea-eyes, his tan skin that showed muscles that he worked on for years. He was eye-catching, someone who stood out into the crowd and drew attention to themselves. It was only fitting that a person like this would have a unique name as well. **(1)**

The name came within an instant.

Marco.

The God of war.

It was three weeks later, still on their own with only themselves when Newgate found out who the person he badgered for really was. He can only see it as Fate turning the wheel of life.

The man he named Marco, the man who had become a brother to him as though he was there all his life, was none other than the very being wishing to end his life. It was no longer just a meaningless story told to children at bed times to put them to sleep. The story was no longer a legend or a myth that was told so many times the reason behind it was no longer there.

The legend was real, right in front of him.

And agonizing in pain to this day.

Searching for a way to end his immortal life.

No, the story would never be told – not to anyone (or so he thought). The story would die with the passage of time and never come back to be told again and again like so many others. When the phoenix finally dies, when it has burned its brightest and the sun can no longer keep up, the story shall never rise again to tell them the true tale of the Phoenix – never know the pain he went through, his story that will forever remain silence.

The day the Phoenix dies it the day it wish finally comes true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izou's reaction to Marco's death at the end of the war.

**Izou’s Reaction to Marco’s Death:**

**A Sister’s Tears**

**Requested by Mysteryreader6626 from Fanfiction.net**

I laid away at night, wondering if there was something I could have changed, something that I could have done differently. It’s been like that for almost a month, never knowing if there was a split in this timeline that could have changed if only I had acted a certain way when we were at war.

Marco, my brother in all but blood, died at the last second of the war as everyone fled to the sea. His death repeated itself in my mind, burning me, haunting me. It was never supposed to be like this, never was it supposed to go down to the oldest sibling dying for the family.

It reminded me greatly of the draft on my home island ( _was it an island or something more… what was it? What was that place where I can’t remember but called home?_ ) where I watched other families be torn apart because their sons had been sent to war with a neighboring village or island, something of the other, where most families never saw their male counter-parts again. Some newlywed-wives would be forced to watch as their husbands were taken, dragged from their homes in the dead of night. They cried, wept, and sobbed for they knew they would never see their husbands again. They would fall into depression, and eventually kill themselves when news reached them that their spouse died for a cause that no one on the island understood.

Maybe there was a reason why not only I, but my parents had dressed me in girl clothes besides that they had wanted a girl instead of a boy. Maybe they were afraid that I too would be taken from them like my older brother in which I never meet. It mattered not now, I could hardly remember my parents – simply blonde hair spraying over their dead bodies for they had almost drowned me and I had struck back.

I had set out to freedom later, when Whitebeard was still just a veteran but not a threat on the high seas – not for a newbie at least. Not for a little rookie with guns that could barely take on a ship of marines at the time.

It was years later, when I was around the age of twenty and had been on the sea for years, had been alone for about two, when I met the person I would one day call my brother for the rest of my life. He was in town, simply checking out the market and seeing if anything was of use. I didn’t recognize him as the famous Phoenix that roamed the seas under the purple flag of Whitebeard.

It was for the second time in my very being I saw those green orbs that flashed to blue within seconds, the second time I felt the safety of a person dearer to me then my own life, the second time within my existence that I saw that face again.

I didn’t remember until that moment, didn’t remember the pain that was forced on a man that I had come to love more than a brother, didn’t remember the shared kisses of a time that had long since died when we were teenagers and weren’t being watched by our friends, until I saw his face again. Millions of emotions crashed into my system, so many that I didn’t know what to think. I was terrified he wouldn’t recognize me, petrified if he did. I had no idea what to do, and then his eyes suddenly focused on mine with the clear message of _‘I know you.’_

I wondered if he had any regrets of our relationship in our past life.

I knew he didn’t though.

The boy that I had known was shy but caring, courageous but not bull-headed, smart but not a know-it-all. The man in front of me was out going but gentle, stubborn but cool headed, cunning and knowledgeable and not afraid to show it. He was everything he should have been the last time we met, but wasn’t because of the obligations in his last life.

He was my Harry, a name that now felt foreign on my tong in a new life with new memories.

I had watched my school sweetheart be taken from me, watched as he was used and tricked. I was never able to reach him, he was never able to hear my voice. I wondered if I could have done anything, could have prevented his suffering in any way.

I had moved on though, not forgetting about him but not willing to help him either. I had found a new lover, gotten married and had my own family. I had never seen him again.

And when I found him in this life, I could no longer be who I used to be. I was simply the sister/brother I should have been in our last life.

Neither of us broached the subject, neither of us dared touch the unspoken line that were drawn between us. Our time had long since passed, and Harry – now Marco – had moved on and fell in love with a brunette that had become our youngest brother years later.

And then when the very mentioned brother was freed, he got himself killed.

Goddamn your wish, you selfish bastard.

You left us alone.

Again.

Goddamn you bother of mine, Marco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is Izou? Can anyone find out without cheating?!  
> Sorry I didn't post this sooner, sort of forgot it was on here. Alright, I didn't forget about this website. I just thought I had put the chapter up. Guess it was a different website.  
> Please comment, and most importantly - request. That's the only way it will ever get updated. It all depends on you.


	3. Thatch's Unspoken Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thatch's betrayal of a different life

 

**Chapter Two: Thatch**

A rookie they called him. An amature that had no right to be in the kitchen, the yelled. It was always the same, the insults they threw at him like he couldn’t hear. It hurt, but he was used to the disappointment that many looked at him with. It might not have been healthy, might even be harmful, but it was okay. He wasn’t what they had wanted in the first place.

The man had been a cruise ship for most of his life, a place to cook on the dangerous high seas of the world. What happened to his family he wasn’t quite sure, maybe he had never had one. It seemed wrong to think that though, as if they had wanted to be there with him but something had happened. He had amnesia after all, an incident that he couldn’t remember before the ship.

Then that was gone too.

All he could hear was the screams of agonizing pain, the rush of energy flowing through his body followed by fear and a crushing sorrow that didn’t seem to want to leave him alone. He never saw the attackers face, never even caught a glimpse of the ship that destroyed his life’s work and the comrades that had taken him in when he was a nobody.

When he regains consciousness a week later, he is on a deserted island with no one in sight for miles. He repeats lines in his head so he doesn’t forget, whether it be his name, occupation, or the friends he had sailed with for the past five years. Days or months could have passed for all he had known, he knew for sure though it was a long time before he saw someone again. The ship that had boarded the island didn’t even register in his mind, wasn’t the thing that made him lock on and keep focus.

No, it was a bright blue bird that did that.

In the back of his mind, he compared it to a flaming turkey. The turkey had landed about twelve meters away from his hiding spot, already having spotted his position. The bird stared at him for a while, taking him in as if he was familiar to the aves. Its head turned to the side, and he was sure it was going to fly off. Whatever was going through its head was not leaving though, a burst of blue flames taking over and covering the animal. A man stood in the bird’s place, a relax stance setting into his body and a familiar ring in his own ears.

Blonde hair as if it was gold, blue eyes of the sky, and tan skin a golden bronze was what greeted his eyes when he checked the man over. The coloring was off in his mind – a different spectrum of colors taking over everything that had been in his messed up memory and what he could gather – and the aura not quite the same, but he knew that face more than he wished to admit.

It was the face of a comrade, a fellow warrior, a childhood friend, a supportive classmate and a brother that he had loved as much as if they were actually related. He stood with him in every battle ever fought, watched his back when he wasn’t looking, and relied on him when he himself had fallen from grace.

All of that, and still he did the worst thing a brother could do

He stole his best friend’s lover from him, throwing him to the wolves – knowing he didn’t have a chance to survive.

Thatch, the man he had become, didn’t say anything as the years passed by and they grew closer. New pirate rookies came aboard the ship that he had learned to call home and became a part of their family. It was a nice and refreshing change to the gore and loneliness his life had been. The man known as Thatch had a place to belong, people who cared what happened to him and wouldn’t abandon him. They were people who were honest and wouldn’t hesitate to take care of his wellbeing. It was good, not having to be the worrier all the time.

Marco, the man Thatch now knew him as, came aboard with a new brother in toe after scouting the island from any danger. The first mate had been away for quite some time and he had started to worry. However, when he saw the new recruit that had changed fast to lovesick. It didn’t matter how many times he saw her, whether it be in one form or another, this was the person he had spent his life with. His crush, his love, his wife. This person was the reason he betrayed his best friend, his brother in all but name.

All three of them knew the past that laid just beyond the surface, knew of what had happened in the past couldn’t change. It was an agonizing truth that they couldn’t escape, however they did not dwell on it. It was the past, something so long ago that only they were there to remember it. Maybe it only mattered to him, as he was the only one who still thought about it constantly.

When Thatch looked into the eyes of his brother and his used-to-be wife-turned male, there was no regret in their eyes. No hatred and no love that was anything but sibling related. It might have been selfish of him, might have made him feel like the scum of the earth, but he was glad the love they had shared in their past life was no more.

Maybe then he could finally release the guilt that had been brought on his shoulders, maybe then he could finally forgive himself for his unwittingly betrayal of his brother.

**Words: 976**

**Pages: 2**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry for the shortness.
> 
> By the way, you all failed at guessing who Izou was. He had been Luna in a different life. Yes, he was going to be Ginny, but then I switched it before I even thought it all through because Ginny would not have acted like Izou in my mind. I'm a bashing Weasley person sometimes, but more importantly I'm a bashing Ginny person. Hermione should have been with Harry from the start and every fan could see it but the author said no, however J. K. Rowling did admit in an interview that she did regret not pairing Harry with Hermione because now that she looks at it, Ron wouldn't have made her happy. She was clinging to the hope of when she first started Harry Potter and didn't see how horrible those two would have been for each other. (Not exact wording, but you know)
> 
> Request - specific please - if you want to see more. It doesn't even have to be reincarnated related. It just happens to go that way. You can just request a scene and I'll do what I can for it.
> 
> I re-did this

**Author's Note:**

> (1) When I was writing A Phoenix Never Dies, I was thinking that Marco was a common name - might not be very popular, but common nonetheless. However in this era of Pirates, Marco isn't common anymore. So in 'Harry's' mind it isn't anything special, but to Whitebeard it is.
> 
> Request what you want - I'll see if I'll do it.


End file.
